


Pitiful Three

by sheithaf



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1685507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheithaf/pseuds/sheithaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mito discovers something in Hashirama's office and realizes they are pitiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pitiful Three

It was almost nine at night as she made her way, yet again, to Hashirama’s office; he had been cooped up in that room since early morning.  He had left the house with nothing but oatmeal in his stomach and when lunch time came around, she walked the entire length of the village, from the door of her house to the center of the village with a small pot of beef stew.  Her feet had gotten swollen and her back had ached, but she endured it because her husband needed to be feed. 

But, when she got there, her husband was sitting on his chair and vigorously eating what could very easily have been his third bowl of ramen and, on her husband’s desk, sat Uchiha Madara very casually as he swung his hands back and forward, a bottle of sake on one hand and the other running through Hashirama’s hair; had it been anyone else, this action would have seemed flirtatious, but it was Madara Uchiha, and Madara Uchiha did not flirt, especially not with a married _man_ , his enemy, his rival, _and_ his best friend. 

Both men had not taken notice of her presence and, much to her surprise, Madara let out what could only be described as a giggle, but Mito shook her head at this; Madara did not giggle.  She cleared her throat, and when Hashirama turned to look at her, he gave her a wide smile and opened his arms to her as he stood up and walked to embrace her.  She returned the warm smile, but couldn’t help but shiver as she briefly made contact with the crimson eyes of the Uchiha.  It was strange to her, but for some odd reason, she felt out of place; even as Hashirama pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, she felt as if she had just intruded in a very intimate moment.  But, this was Hashirama and Madara; it couldn’t have been.

Hashirama knelt down on one knee in front of her and placed his hands on her belly as he gave it a gently kiss.  Mito smiled down at her husband as he felt around her grown belly, hoping for the child inside her to give him a little kick.  It was such a sweet and loving moment between the two, she had completely forgotten about the other person in the room.  That is, until the bottle of sake that had once been in Madara’s hand, hit the floor, shattering into a million pieces.

The sound broke husband and wife from their trance and turned to look at the man.  There was an annoyed expression in his face; one which Mito chose to decide was for having spilled his sake and not out of… jealously?  He muttered a quiet sorry as he bent down to pick up the shards, but Hashirama called out to him and motioned him to come over.

With a scowl, Madara stood next to a kneeling Hashirama, his single exposed eye drilling a hole into the woman in front of him. What happened next surprised both Mito and the Uchiha.  Hashirama took Madara’s hands in his and placed them on Mito’s belly.  When the contact was made, the child inside her kicked at the entwined hands entwined hands of Hashirama and Madara, and for that moment, for whoever small it was, there was a smile on Madara’s lips.  But it disappeared and Madara pulled his hands away from Mito and Hashirama as he turned away from them and left the room.

With a heavy sigh, Hashirama stood up and took the pot from her hands.  He placed it on his desk, adding that he’d have it for dinner.  When she reminded him that it would get cold, he jokingly replied he’d ask Madara to heat it up for him.  After a few minutes of small chatter, Hashirama walked Mito out of the building.  Giving her a kiss, he reminded her not to be making strenuous activities with the baby due in a short time.  She waved the comment off and instead asked if he’d be home in time for bed.  He said that because Tobirama was away on a mission, whom was the one to deal with all the paperwork, he’d stay in late to work on it and Madara would be helping him.

Of course… Madara.

Now, it was nine.  Although Hashirama had told her not to move around too much and that he would stay late at the office… with Madara… there was just something she had to see, to prove to herself.  It was close to impossible, but for a while now, something had been bothering her and she didn’t know what it could be, but she strongly felt that it had something to do with the Uchiha.  She kept telling herself it was just her imagination, and opted for visiting Hashirama, giving herself the excuse that it was to take him a snack… and not to drop in on Madara, on _them_ , unannounced.

She stood outside the building and was surprised to see no light emitting from Hashirama’s office window.  It was odd seeing as her husband had yet to return home, not to mention there had been a lot of scrolls and documents stacked up at a corner of the desk earlier and she hadn’t seen him on her way.  Perhaps he had taken a different route, or maybe he walked Madara home? Or maybe…  She shook her head as her thoughts drifted to the impossible and with determination, she walked into the building.

It was dark and the halls were quiet.  She was alone, she knew, but something told her to be as silent as possible.  With delicate, inaudible steps, she neared her husband’s office.  From a few meters away, she could make out that the door had been left ajar ever so slightly.  The room was bound to be empty and as she turned back down the hall, someone’s whispered voice entered her ears.

“No, Hashirama.” She stopped dead in her tracks.  Cold sweat trailed down her brow as she rested a hand on her stomach, the other going white with how strongly she grasped the dango-filled bag.  It had to have been her imagination… She stood immobile, waiting… listening.  “I’m tired of always being placed last in your priorities.”  There was no doubt.  It was Madara’s voice; but what did he mean?

“Madara,” it was Hashirama.  His voice sounded so tender, so delicate, so in love.  Why would he call out to Madara in that manner?  Was this it?  Was this what she had known all along, but tried to deny?  She etched closer to the door and continued to listen.  “I’m sorry.  Everything… it’s expected of me… I can’t… I just… I’m sorry.” Silence followed for a few seconds before Mito heard a small gasp.  “I love you, Madara.  More than anything.”

This revelation shock Mito to the core.  Tears formed in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall as she gripped onto her belly tighter.  She was well aware that the marriage between her and the Senju had been for political status, but, deep down, she felt that she and Hashirama held a strong bond.  She had always suspected there was something Hashirama loved more than her, but to actually hear him say it, to another person no less!

“Yeah,” Madara’s unconvinced voice rang followed by a few movements, “I don’t believe you!  Love me more than anything, bah!  You chose the village over me!  You chose Mito over me!  And guess what, Hashirama?  When your child is born, you will choose him over me as well!”  Steps were heard and Mito began to panic, not wanting to be discovered, but the steps stopped short.  “Let me go!”  And there was a smacking sound; Mito could only conclude Madara had slapped Hashirama away.

“I’m not saying I don’t love them, Madara.  Mito is a beautiful, wonderful woman.  I love her, yes, but not the way I love you Madara.  And my child… Madara, please.”

“Tsk.  Well, if you love them so much, we should stop _this_!”  This? Again, there were steps and Mito backed away from the door.

“Madara…” Hashirama’s voice was a whisper; if not for Mito’s skills, it would have gone unheard from her.  “Please… don’t… I can’t.”  Mito felt a tug at her heart; her husband, such a strong and powerful man, he sounded pitiful as he begged.  “I can’t without you…  I know it’s not fair.  To you, to Mito, but… I don’t know what to do.  I know I’m being selfish, but…” and he didn’t continue.

“Tsk.  You’re so pathetic!”  Anger rang in Madara’s voice.  “Let me go!”

There seemed to be a small struggle before Hashirama’s voice rang out again, “I love you, Madara.”

Silence surrounded the two and their unnoticed guest.  Mito heard a sigh of surrender escape Madara’s lips before he said something Mito never would have thought the Uchiha was capable of saying or feeling, “I love you too, Hashi.”

Mito heard a series of movements, and although the door prevented her from seeing, she could almost feel as her husband and his best friend shared an intimate kiss.  The sound of small pants and ghost of kisses filled her ears.  She bit her lower lip and pushed back the tears.  She knew it.  She’d known it all along.  The way they’d look at each other.  Those rare gestures of kindness Madara directed to Hashirama and Hashirama alone.  The closeness and comfortableness between the two had.  Those talks the both shared, talks that only belonged to the two and everyone else would be excluded.

Madara broke her from her thoughts.  He was… moaning.  “Haa-hashii…”  Placing a shaky hand on the door, Mito peered through the small opening.

Madara lay on the floor atop of Hashirama’s hokage robe.  His body stripped of any clothing and his skin glowing in the moonlight.  He hid his eyes at the crook of one arm and was biting his other fist in an attempt to silence himself. His legs where wide open, one thrown over Hashirama’s shoulder and the other resting against Hashirama’s side.  And her husband, bearing only the pants of his hokage outfit, he held onto the leg thrown over his shoulder with one hand as he placed butterfly kisses on Madara’s inner thigh while two fingers on his other hand moved slowly in and out of Madara’s entrance.

Mito brought her hand to her mouth as a gasped escaped her lips, being mindful to not drop the bag in her shock.  She thought she’d gone unnoticed, but she was wrong.  Madara had removed the arm covering his eyes and he stared at the door with knowing eyes.  He stared directly at her, and she stared back.  Their eyes locked, and Mito felt herself intimidated.  Even in the position he was in and his cheeks stained red, Madara’s gaze towards her was cold; Mito was almost certain he knew she had been there all along.  And knowing Madara Uchiha, he probably had.

A smirk formed on his lips, like he was rubbing it in her face.  He broke the gaze and looked back down to Hashirama as he took him in his mouth.  A loud moan escaped Madara’s lips as he arched his back at the contact.  He turned to look back at Mito as he grabbed a handful of Hashirama’s hair. 

Mito left, running as fast as she could in her condition.  She didn’t know how to feel.  Angry.  Betrayed.  Stupid.  Used.  So many feelings.  She wanted to hate Madara.  She wanted to hate Hashirama.  But as she exited the building and slowed down her pace, the only thing she could feel for both men and herself, was pity. 

That’s what they were.  Pitiful.  Madara for loving a married man, the hokage, the leader of the village.  Hashirama for being forced into a marriage and not being able to freely be with the person he truly loved.  And her for not wanting to notice her husband’s infidelity sooner and for not doing anything when she found out.  As she wiped a stray tear away, she felt in her heart that the path they were headed down could only end in tragedy.


End file.
